


Stupid Cupid (keep picking on me and I'll punch you)

by Jonaira



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: 80's Music, 90's Music, Awkward Boners, Awkward First Times, Crack Crossover, Crossover, Declarations Of Love, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Inspired by Music, Loss of Control, Loss of Virginity, Love, Magic Made Them Do It, Masturbation, Masturbation in Bathroom, Mating Cycles/In Heat, My First Smut, One-Sided Attraction, Oral Sex, Painful Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rough Sex, Sex, Sex Pollen, Sexual Humor, Shameless Smut, Smut, Something Made Them Do It, Stealth Crossover, Tattooed Percy, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wall Sex, Who cares as long as they do it, Woman on Top, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, invisiblity kink, percabeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-24 11:54:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4918534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jonaira/pseuds/Jonaira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annabeth did not plan for their first time to go like this. Okay so she didn't exactly plan their first time, because isn't this stuff supposed to be all that heat of the moment sort of spontaneous and awkward and cutesy...? And not crazy, wild, freakin' incredible wall-denting sex ?<br/>For one thing, a damn (stop laughing Seaweed Brain, I said damn and not dam- oh for Olympus' sake stop trying to blow yourself, I'm not turning you right side up again) bed would've been nice. Even Crusty's waterbeds would've been fine. Although the club below does have some great tunes (Fine, your selection of music is awesome, I admit. But most of it is Sally's anyway. Ok, touché, good taste is genetic, since you are dating me after all ;) </p><p>The gods made them do it. </p><p>And if Annabeth hears that Stupid Cupid song once again, she's going to steal his bow and quiver and ask Hawkeye to shoot the idiot into deep space with his own ammo. (Percy I don't care whether Hawkeye is real or just part of the Mist, its just an expression because projecting with a bow into even the stratosphere is impossi- mmph...Okay...A little busy here) <br/>*a little lower, yeah right there- ooh!*</p><p>Annabeth out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stupid Cupid (keep picking on me and I'll punch you)

**Author's Note:**

> And with this, I lose my smut-fic virginity to Percy Jackson.*drumroll*  
> Comments and constructive criticism much appreciated. Be gentle ? (hah! that's what she said...)  
> Also, condoms for the win guys ! Please use protection. What I've put the characters through is by no means an ideal situation by any stretch of imagination.  
> Lastly, and most important, have a good read :)

Right. So. Hello.

I’m not sure where to start exactly, but I know just how to end. So let’s begin with that last part, okay ?

Spending the first weekend of spring break (finally) with Percy was totally my idea.

Going on a quest to retrieve a child of Ares (the satyrs were on a strike of some sort because they wanted more flexible work hours and better dental packages....or was it better espresso in the Mess ? Either way, poor Grover had looked so harried that Percy and I had immediately agreed to go retrieve the kid in place of an angry, uncaffeinated goat-man) wasn’t exactly in the agenda, but hey, sure, why not.

Loosing said demigod to a bunch of telekhines, kicking telekhine ass to find the kid missing after the meleé, and having to call Nico and Piper for back-up was not my idea. Neither was jacking a car,

(“ _Borrowing_ , Annabeth. Plus we found it in a scrap-yard anyway. Hey, the radio still works !” Percy says to me, as he hotwires the car. Or tries to. After ten minutes of increasingly more creative cursing from him I take over. Bless Leo and his _Mortal World Survival_ workshops. “I could swear he said it’s the red and blue wires, not the red and green...” Percy trails off sheepishly) and meeting up with Nico and Piper in Hell’s Kitchen, of all places.

(The damage there post the Battle of Manhattan in the second Titan War was especially bad thanks to Typhon. The gods had worked the Mist so thick and intricate that mortals had even confused the timeline by two years, strongly under the impression that The Avengers’ Battle of New York in 2012 with space whales and chitter-something aliens was the actual cause and not the fight with Typhon, which the mortals had briefly believed to be a haywire storm system -blame it on the El-Nino sure- in 2010. They even included the Norse god Thor – I personally think it was a kiss-ass shout out to Zeus- to make it more realistic. Of course, Hermes’ movie franchise definitely helped sell the story to people. Mortals, I swear.)

And most importantly, neither was having the wildest, roughest and most mind-blowing sex (I honestly don’t think it could get any better, even if it _was_ my first time) my idea, (I’ll never admit to that _not_ being my idea). Anyhow, that comes a lot later.

By the time we finally rendezvous with our back-up, we’re out of fuel. Both for our cars and tummies. So much for us ‘borrowing’ the rattle-trap.

“Why Hell’s Kitchen ? I mean, it _is_ pretty far away from where we last saw Sera. That’s the half-blood.” Percy tells Nico as the four of us hunt for a hot-dog vendor.

“Eh ? Ah well, we were in the area and I didn’t want to use up my quota of shadow travelling for today, I’m keeping that for when we get a lock on her location and need to get there quick.”

“Or, you could be candid and just admit that the gentrified population of the area makes you feel most at home in all of New York, you all being of the same age group and stuff.” Percy ribs him.

Nico shrugs. “That too,” he allows. Piper and I share a look.

“But I’m mostly interested in Daredevil, as the mortals call him. He keeps defying Death, so I just wanted to give him a heads up about Thanatos tracking him down to throw a hissy fit at him. He’s even got a little dart-board with Daredevil motifs and his aim has gotten much better of late.”

“Hold on, isn’t Daredevil part of the whole Marvel franchise ? Just a creation of the Mist ?” asks Piper.

Nico smiles faintly at that. “Nope. Matt Murdock isn’t part of the Mist. Child of Nemesis, that one. The blindness is kind of fitting even, what with the eye for an eye deal. He’s a great guy though, and he doesn’t have back up. Ran into him the other night when a gang was trying to rough me up. It wouldn’t have been a problem anyway, I was just about to shadow travel, but he took care of them for me and we got talking.”

Percy whistles at this bit of news.

“You planning on showing him camp ?” I ask Nico.

He shakes his head. “He’s pretty settled in the mortal world, I wouldn’t want to upset the system he’s got set up for himself. Too many mortals in the mix. I did leave him with a years’ worth of ambrosia, nectar and a few drachmas to contact me though. He seems to get hit more than a whack-a-mole mole.”

“Speaking of which,” Piper cuts in, “are either of you hurt ? I have some ambrosia with me.”

We check ourselves over. Percy has a scratch from where Sera’s backpack had raked across his arm accidentally in the scrum that broke out with the telekines. It had stopped bleeding ages ago though and Percy waved off her offer. We tell them our main worry, which is how she won’t show up on even my mirrored shield, the one we’d used to save Hermes’ caduceus with. Since it should show any place or person as long as sunlight touches them, we’d though that maybe she was underground at first, or in a basement indoors or something. But then Percy pointed out that even Caucus the snake-thief had been underground, and we’d seen his lair just fine.

“It’s like she’s been shielded or hidden with extremely strong magic.” Piper concludes. “Could Hazel help ?” she asks Nico hopefully. He mulls it for a moment but grimaces then. “She’s skilled at manipulating the mist, but this might be a little too far out of her specialization.”

We decide to try iris messaging Sera. We find an empty parking spot behind a playground and pour out some water to make a puddle. Nico produces a tiny bottle of machine oil from his aviator jacket (seriously, that thing’s pockets are bottomless, and I’ve fallen into a supposedly bottomless pit) and we add a drop to the surface of the water. As it spreads across the surface, the colours of the rainbow appear and begin to undulate. The four of us crowd around the puddle, Percy pressed warm against my back. Behind me something, maybe somebody’s elbow, pokes against my back . Percy shifts suddenly and nearly pushes me into the puddle. Luckily he catches my arm in the nick of time and furiously red-faced, profusely apologises and steps back a good way from me. Er, over-reaction much ? I call upon Fleecy to do us a solid (at this point, even liquid or gas would be great as long as we find that kid) drop the drachma in, watching it disappear into the rippling rainbow on the puddles’ surface. But all we get back is an automated, breezily cheerful voice repeating ‘Error report 404: Person not found. Person may not exist. This service is not extended to prank callers and prank calls. Visit ROFL co-op for more amazing services. Offers valid until stocks last, please read the offer document carefully before investing.’

We duck into a diner, one of those ancient places that that thumb their noses at physics and are actually bigger inside than they should be, with a clientele mostly seeming to be about half as old as the Olympians themselves, silver, white and grey haired, bundled up tightly against the cold. We get a few stink eyes when we let in a blast of cold air but the waitress is sweet (and immediately takes a liking to Nico, who twitches when she ruffles his hair and tops off his coffee.) A few elders look up from their Sudoku and stare interestedly at us decidedly scruffy teens, before deciding that the crossword is more interesting. I’ve got nothing against Sudoku, especially not when Percy loves it. It’s just the crosswords that make my dyslexia grow dripping fangs and attack my head with a jack-hammer. I continue to let my conscious thoughts ramble on, leaving my unburdened subconscious to come up with a plan to track down Sera.

We decide to stay for an early dinner (since lunch never happened) when my stomach growls so loudly that the old chap in the adjacent booth drops his bifocals when he peers up at us. At some point I end up absent-mindedly playing with Percy’s feet under the table, rubbing at his jean clad shin with the toe of my boot. He sets his cup down so hard that a bit of coffee splashes out. At our questioning looks he just shakes his head, a little wide-eyed and shifts in his seat. Odd.

There’s a tiny radio at the end of our table and Percy fiddles with it until Nico barks out “Stop !” at one of the stations. Piper cocks an ear to the music, to which Nico has begun to nod along to. He’s just a one finger snapping session away from High School Musical.

Her face does a funny little spasm then, and then it straightens although the continued twitching of her mouth indicates that it isn’t without effort.

“I like One Direction as well Nico,” she smiles at him.

Nico turns a delicate shade of pink at that, but grins hugely nonetheless and replies,

“Call a spade a spade Pipes. Directioners and proud, the two of us.”

Piper’s laugh rings out, head thrown back.

“Glad to have you in the fray for sure. It’s just that I would’ve figured you more for a Linkin Park type.”

“Oh, Linkin Park is great too. But Harry Styles is boss.”

Percy chips in then, “Gotta love the hair, man. Styles has style.” he declares with utter seriousness.

Nico continues hurriedly before Percy physically cripples us with more lame jokes, voice wavering as he nods along to the beat (I think the song is Stockholm Syndrome)

“Will was telling me that Styles is a demigod too, one of his half brothers actually. One of those kids who don’t know their true heritage and end up surviving and making it big in the mortal world.” He straightens quickly then and shuts his mouth with a click as his fan, the waitress comes by with our food.

A while later, we’ve tucked in and are half way through the meal when Percy gasps and straightens so suddenly that we collectively drop our food and scan the diner for threats. The tip of my finger I’d been sucking a bit of mayo off leaves my mouth with a pop.

Except he’s not looking around the diner but seems to be staring fixedly and somewhat slack-jawed at...my hand ? I check over my shoulder (the old guy behind is seriously rocking the tartan fleecy, definetly not Percy’s type) but nope, its my hand alright. Er.

“No no. I just- ah. Washroom.” he mumbles but nearly trips in his hurry to get out of the booth. Poor guy must’ve really needed to go, what with the cold and all.

But when he’s gone long enough for us three to finish eating, Nico volunteers to go check the men’s room.

*

What sounds like a muffled but deep moan cuts off just as I push open the door to the washroom. Its empty but for the two of us, his scuffed boots visible through the door gap of the single stall.

“Percy ? All good in there ?” I call out hesitantly.

“Peachy ! Yes ! All’s good, all’s great. I’m feeling Iron Man awesome.” He says, or rather wheezes out, more than a tad breathless.

What.

“So you feel like you have a chest full of shrapnel ? C’mon, do you have an upset stomach ? We won’t mind if you fart. Just no stopping for Taco Bell please.” I clarify, because seriously. _What._

The flush sounds and then he emerges, looking sheepish. Sheepish and flushed.

“You feverish Jackson ? What’s going on ?” I ask, because now he’s worrying me.

“Nico, jeez man, ‘m fine. And you’re missing the point with Iron Man, dude. I’m feeling as hard-um, hardy as titanium alloy. Let’s get outta here, the hand dryer is giving me a bad vibe.” He finishes as he washes his hands and then wills the water droplets to roll off leaving his hands completely dry. Show-off. He gives the hand-dryer the evil eye and struts out of the washroom. This is the guy I can’t stop thinking about. Right. And I think to myself, how is this my life.

*

Things unbelievably get even worse after that. We leave the diner and decide to call Chiron and tell him that we’ll be coming back to camp for the night via Gray Sister’s Taxi. At least that’s the plan until Percy drops like a stone, and it needs Nico, Piper and I to pick him up and prop him up on the sidewalk. On checking his forehead, he’s burning up, the thin sheen of sweat coating his face already gone. After a few sips of nectar he comes around enough to clutch Nico’s arm while he shadow travels Percy and I into the locked building adjacent, with what looks like a vacant flat above it. The three conscious members of our group decide to split up, Nico and Piper searching for Sera and possible cures for Percy since we suspect anything powerful enough to make him this groggy must be either monstrous or divine. Its only natural that I stay back to keep an eye on him. Piper and Nio shadow travel away to the area where we fought the telekhines, to check for any clues.

After we break into the club and climb to the flats above (One flyer announces that today is Oldies’ Night) and get Percy settled on the dusty, funky-smelling couch in the front room of the two storey dilapidated flat upstairs, we settle down to wait. At least the lights work. And just as I think that, all but two of the bulbs burn out. Spectacular.

He takes off his jacket first. It’s pretty damn cold in here without a running heater or a carpet on the scuffed floor (whose original colour is indecipherable) but still, off with the jacket.

“Feelin’ hot hot hot.” He sings the old Blacklace songs’ chorus in response to my worried frown.

“No seriously, I’m sweating bullets here.” And to his credit, he does look flushed, pink high up his cheekbones.

And then after a while he takes off the eye-wateringly orange CHB hoodie underneath, so that he’s left in just the faded, threadbare Henley.(which I think he’s owned it since he was fourteen.) It’s too thin to give any real warm and though he’s feeling hot now, I wonder if what’s affected him is only manifesting as a fever we have to break. In which case he needs to keep warm until he perspires.

(And the Henley clings until its see-through. I could get behind that. But taking into account his growth spurt since then, I’d rather he not put that hoodie back on. Or any other item of more clothing, ever.)

So I tell him my fever theory and suggest he bundle up again. He gags in response.

“I’d make a terrible baked potato. Even Grover’s mango chutney wouldn’t help.” is all he says and refuses to put his winter-wear back on. I glare at him and huff.

(And internally tap dance with glee -just good ole’ Henley and me can spend some quality time. Horrible person and proud.)

After a while though he gets restless again, shifting and tossing until he finally stands and announces that he needs to go the restroom. I stand up to go find it with him and stand guard outside the door, telling him just that at his questioning look.

“You don’t expect me to just let you go toilet hunting alone in a creepy old flat do you?”

“Uh, but I expect you to do just that. C’mon Annabeth, I’m a big boy. Legal adult and all that. I’ll be fine.”

“But-”

“Annabeth ! _Jeez._ Could you stop worrying for one damn second ?! I just need my own space for a bit.” He cuts me off, a tad too sharp.

I don’t know what my face looks like at that, but his expression immediately turns contrite. He walks up to me then and gently brushes a strand of my hair back.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” He says softly, as he strokes down to my cheek. I lean into his touch then and smile back. He drops his hand like he's been burned then, expression suddenly panicked.

“Um, okay. Gotta go. Bathroom. Right now.” He says quickly and jogs out of the room.

I leisurely pick my jaw off the floor.

“Well, I guess nothing he finds can be worse than that time Gaia decided to hang out in porta-potty sludge.” I mumble to myself.

*

He looks a better after he comes back, and although he’s been gone awhile I only realise how pinched he’d looked before when I see the difference now. His cheeks are still ruddy, but his eyes are bright and he has a spring in his step.

“Enough space ?” I ask.

“Loads. I missed you.” He grins back.

“That’s what every girl dreams about hearing, that her boyfriend thought about her while taking a whiz.” I roll my eyes at him. He mumbles something under his breath and sheepishly scratches the back of his head.

We play at guessing the song playing downstairs while we wait on news from Nico and Piper. I agree with Lionel Ritchie; sure feels like we’re going to be here all night long. Everything playing is pre-2000’s, which explains the oldies’ night poster downstairs, and Percy is totally rocking out, he knows all the lyrics to most. Ringo Starr’s It Don’t Come Easy, Nina Simone’s Good Feeling, ACDC’s Rock’n Roll Train- he knows them all. He does his best eyelash-fluttering and makes Bette Davis eyes at me when the song comes on and he’s singing it to me, although he’s decidedly feeling uncomfortable again, squirming and shifting by the time Corona is going on about Reeboks and Nikes.

“Rhythm of the Night Annabeth ! Its Rhythm of the Night. Think bass and speakers, not laces and sneakers ! ” he chides me, hands flapping. He’s so worked up, he’s sweating again.

Then he suddenly stands before turning on a dime and throwing a monsyllabilic and hasty “Washroom” over his shoulder and marching off. No way I’m staying behind this time. Something’s up and it’s not like Percy to keep stuff from me, especially not while on a quest and separated from the others. I’m even a bit insulted that he thinks he can just get away with an excuse like “needing space.” Honestly, if he’s just got an upset stomach, the few gas jokes he knows I’d make wouldn’t be enough to deter him from telling me about it, and to stay out of the blast radius if I wanted continued use of my nose.

I put on my Yankees cap and tip toe after him, giving him a bit of a head start. The walls and doors here are paper thin, and I pray that the floorboards won’t squeak as I near the bathroom door. I’m prepared to hear tinkle noises, but the low growl that reaches me makes my hair stand on end. Especially when I hear my name mixed in there. _Trust Percy to get attacked in the loo !_ I think angrily as I kick the door down, and then my eardrums nearly tear at the pitch and intensity of the scream he lets loose. All of a sudden the screaming gets a lot louder, and I realise that I’m screaming as well, but in pure unadulterated mortification while he’s screaming in some unholy combination of terror, embarrassment _and_ mortification. Monsters _sure;_  I wasn’t prepared to be attacked by the sight of Percy with his pants and boxers somewhere around his knees and right hand firmly curled around his junk. It waves hello to me and stays proudly up when he drops it like its all of a sudden burning a million degrees. Brains catching up, we both turn around to face away at the same time.

“Annabeth I-” he starts, voice higher than usual.

I mercilessly steamroll whatever he has to say.“So is Washroom code for jerk-off session with all guys ? Or is it just you ?”

“Its code for nothing ! Annabeth I think there’s something wrong with me-”

“Well of course there’s something wrong with you, you’ve just snuck away to check your plumbing thrice within the course of two hours !”

“Annabeth would you fucking listen to me !” he snaps, and his tone and wording brings me up short. Percy never curses at me and now that’s twice he’s lost his otherwise unshakable cool with me within a miniscule timeframe, considering he’s never once cursed at me in all the time I’ve known him.

“I’m all ears.” I tell him. The sound of the tap alerts me to his washing up, followed by the snick of the zipper being pulled.

“I can’t keep it down. Ever since we lost Sera I’ve been feeling weird. I popped one for the first time when I was behind you at the puddle, trying to I-M her” The elbow that poked me...Well hey there, Percy Junior.

He continues, sounding more unnerved now. “I mean it was embarrassing, sure, but you’re _you_ and I figured it was just my body deciding act like an eighteen year old and have the appropriate reaction around you.” I feel my cheeks redden.

“At the time I just thought about the giants in the sauna and the boner killer worked. But at the diner no amount of bad-boner-not-now thoughts helped so I went to take care of it. Its been getting worse- jacking off is just a holding measure, it comes back even stronger and much quicker. I was about to tell you, _honest_ , but you could say that ah, something came up. And I wasn’t keen on addressing this with you, waggly tail in tow.” He finishes, sounding even more sheepish now.

My first thought is guilt, for giving him a hard time. And my second is indignation. I wish he’d have just mentioned this before, so we could’ve figured out something to help him sooner.

Either way, after I apologise for freaking out at him, we decide to give Nico and Piper the gist of the matter, telling them exactly what malady this is. Nico sums it up quickly enough- “He basically can’t walk straight can he ?” he asks, a curious expression on his face. Something...wistful and sad.

“Um, he can’t sit straight for that matter either.” I add. Poor Piper is red faced and silent. She tries to smile reassuringly at me but it comes out looking more constipated than anything. I ask about Sera.

“She’s in the wind, Annabeth. I’m sorry.” Says Piper, shaking her head dolefully.

“Which is why we’ve asked Mellie to send out a few feelers and ask a few friends if they’ve possibly seen her on the move, but so far it’s like she never existed outside the timeframe you two met her during. She did tell us that the Erotes might be able to pin-point what’s wrong with Percy and how to fix it though. We’re on our way there.”

“Could Sera have just been a glamour maybe ? Some minor god looking for a couple of heroes to pick on ?” I ask.

Nico rolls his eyes then. “Well whoever it is sure got lucky. It’s Percy-Hero Of Olympus-Jackson that they’ve got all loopy and swooning.”

“Maybe too literally.” I reply faintly as I look over the top of the IM image at Percy.

Nico’s eyes widen in alarm “Oh gods, what’s he done now ?”

“Gymnastics.” I tell him.

“Eh ?” says Piper (true charmspeak, she has, this one), while Nico goes “Wait, like, Make it or Break it ?”.

“I’ll call you guys back” I tell them and then put down my torch and prism and go and try to rescue Percy from himself. His headstand appears to have gone horribly wrong. His shoulders and head are on the floor, face upwards, and his knees are in line with his ears, back curving dangerously and arms flailing uselessly.

“What exactly were you trying to do ?” I ask in disbelief once we’ve got him upright as he dusts himself off. We don’t know all the symptoms of whatever viva-viagra issue he’s got going, but if they’re progressing in this vein, I’m quickly going to be out of my depth. I can’t stop him if he decides to starts swinging from the chandelier. Or channelling any other aspect of Sia for that matter. I’m putting my foot down at _bulletproof_.

He looks a bit dazed when he replies, a tiny goofy smile spreading slowly, “I just thought it would be a good idea to see if I could reach my own crotch y’know ? See if I could suck myself off.” And then promptly looks horrified that he actually said that out loud.

Well. So this is how it’s going to be.

“So when did you plan on undoing your flies ?” I point out.

He freezes then, and incredibly looks even more horrified. He looks down at his hands and then at the scuff marks on the dusty floor

“Holy Posiedon. I actually just did that.” It sounds a lot like a question. I feel terrible crushing his hope when I tell him,

“I think you might have actually gotten to know Percy Jr. better. You’re surprisingly flexible.”

He groans and clutches his head in his hands. But after a moment of silent mortification, he looks up through his fingers and tells me,

“Vlad.”

“Eh ?”

“Vlad. Like, Vlad the Impaler. Not Percy Jr.”

My brain reboots after a second.

“Well,” I tell him, “its better than ‘ the Count. D’. But honestly, if this moves any further into vampire territory I’m putting my foot down.”

He shudders delicately.“Ahh no, I don’t do sparkly and constipated.”

“Glad we understand each other.” I sit down next to him and rest my head on his shoulder. We sit in silence for a bit, until he kisses the top of my head but pulls back suddenly.

“Not the best idea for me right now.” He gulps. I get what he means and move across the room, and he smiles in gratitude.

We sit quiet for a while (I sit, he squirms), lost in our own thoughts.

“Hey Seaweed brain. How’re you holding up ?” I ask. And then tack on “Um, no pun intended.” because the ability to point out bad puns is one of his super powers that persist endlessly, unknown-non-erectile dysfunction or not.

He gives me a pained sort of smile from his spot in the corner, hunching up further on himself as he shifts against the wall.

“Things are kinda hard right now. Pun fully intended.”

And then _squeaks_ as his attempts to get more comfortable on the cold floor apparently rub him the wrong (er, right ?) way. He blows out a deep breath though his mouth, fists clenching and lets his had roll back against the wall, the long stretch of his neck exposed as he tries to stop panting.

I just try not to _start_ panting.

It’s getting increasingly difficult for him to sit still. He starts pacing at one point, looking like a caged lion, except like Nico said, he’s barely walking, all curved in on himself, arms held stiff by his side. I purposefully keep my eyes above his waist. But things start to go downhill when he kicks off his shoes and socks.

“I‘m gonna go take a cold shower or try and drown myself in the tub.” He breathes heavily and stalks off, wincing a bit. And I’m left out in the cold hallway alone. I wait for ages, before I go to check up on him.

“I think you should stay away.” He says in a strangled voice. I try the latch, but it won’t budge.

“Percy let me in.”

“I told you, go away. It’s getting worse.” He says curtly. That tone in his voice sounds profoundly wrong.

“Percy if you don’t open this door before I’m done counting to three I’m kicking it down.” I threaten. Before can even start counting though the door flies open. I’m all puffed up and annoyed- I can’t help him if he locks himself away from me. He’s only making my full time job of keeping him safe tougher by trying to be a martyr.

Every valid point and argument drains out when I see his expression, as he looms menacingly above me. I think I lose my voice.

“I’m asking nicely, Annabeth. Just let me stay in here. Don’t force me to freeze the door and lock and seal you out.” He grinds out with gritted teeth and forced civility.

“I don’t need you to be _nice_ Jackson ! I need you to pull you head out of your ass and let me help you !” I spit.

His responding snarl chills my bones, and he slams the door shut in my face. As I stare at the peeling plywood in shock at his uncharacteristic and unnerving rudeness, I see little lines of frost creeping around the edges. He actually sealed me out !

I stomp off fuming, and sit sharpening my knives in the hallway. It feels like forever, but eventually, my worry for him wins out and I decide to be the more mature one in this back and forth and go make peace. He ignores me when I call out again, although this time, all I hear is a rumble of swears, in mixed Greek and English. I keep hearing a thwap noise, followed by a soft grunt, but the longer I listen, the more the grunt starts to sound like a moan. I don’t want to believe it, but I think he’s actually punching the wall.

I leave and sit back in the hallway, worried beyond measure, praying for Nico and Piper to call with some help. I go back again eventually.

“Percy ?” I call out. “You doing okay in there ?”

I’m greeted by silence except for the sound of the dripping tap when I press my ear against the door. I’m just about to call out again when,

“I can smell you.” Comes his strangled sounding voice, quiet and desperate.

“ _ANNABETH I CAN SMELL YOU !_ ” he roars then, and I trip back with my heart hammering and adrenaline spiking coldly through my stomach just as the door shudders when he hits it. There’s another bang and the chipping paint over the door cracks with the wood behind it , splintering against his knuckles from the way he curses and groans. I’m frozen, terrified and completely at sea. Maybe this what it feels like to be turned to stone by Medusa. Gimme a monster, a spider, heck even Arachne again, but I don’t know how to fight this. How to fight _Percy_. Fight him and this loss of control, the way he’s hurting himself. Percy’s gone and I don’t know who this berserker raging behind the door is. I can’t do it. I don’t know how to do it, how to face this without him. I’m on the ground, my knees aching from where I’ve fallen hard on them. My vision blurs and I realise I’m crying in my panic, those horrible noises are coming from me , not him and my hands aren’t free to dash tears away because they’re busy trying to tear my hair out.

“Help me.” His voice is ragged, hoarse and hitches on a sob.

“You’ve got to get out of here now before I break down the door. _Please_ , I-” his voice breaks.

“Help me before I hurt you. _Annabeth say something tell me you’re fucking listening Anna -_ aargh-!!” he howls as the sound of glass shattering snaps me out of my panic attack and I realise he’s punched the mirror.

And then the thought is so sudden and strange that it distracts me from my horror for the briefest of moments- the boy’s going to kill himself the way he’s going.

Where Kronos and Gaia and Tartarus and every other foul ugly failed he’s going to succeed and kill himself.

Typical Percy. Always needing to bear the weight of the world all by himself, compulsively taking responsibility to do the nastiest, toughest job. I snort at that, and the sheer ridiculousness of it, me thinking about his stubbornness at a time like this and my reaction to it wakes me up like ice water. The feeling of sound and sight being cotton-wool muffled recedes and then everything is sharp and Technicolor again as I take stock of the situation.

It sucks. Moving on.

I need to call Piper and Nico _immediately_ and use whatever information they’ve managed to scrape together. I hurry into the next room closing the door behind me, switching off the light and turn on my pencil torch, narrowing the beam. It kills a part of me to have to leave him bleeding and terrified behind that door instead of going to him and picking every splinter out of his hands but this has to be done.

_Has_ to. And now I’m crying again.

Percy’s gone quiet in the bathroom, whimpering occasionally and muttering “No _no_ no nono _noo._..” He gasps sharply at one point and then goes back to whimpering. My fingers are trembling and I fight down a sob but it won’t help either of us if I drop the prism and shatter it right now. ‘If he’s hurt the water will heal him’ some part of my head that's still sane whispers at me. It sounds a lot like Percy.

I align the narrow white beam through the prism I’m holding up, the light refracting and a faint rainbow forming against the door of the room. I chuck the drachma clenched between my teeth against it and it sinks into the wall.

“Oh Fleecy, do me a solid, show me Nico and Piper” I intone and they shimmer into view, hazy and blurred through the poor connection.

Nico sees me first and yelps, “Annabeth ! Thank the gods, we were just about to call you. Just let me -” he grunts and then reaches down and heaves something off the ground. He looks a bit dishevelled, with smears of... is that _rouge_? Rouge down half his face and tinting his hair orange, like he lost a fight with a really angry vintage make-up kit.

“Where are you guys ? What’s Piper doing ?” I ask, trying to keep the note of hysteria out of my voice.

“We’re at the lair-” from somewhere behind Piper some guy angrily squawks “ _Man Cave_ chica, Man Cave !” and then grunts as he’s socked for his troubles by Nico.

Piper huffs and continues in an exasperated manner.

“Well, we’re at the _lair_ ” she yells ‘lair’ extra loud “of Pothos, Imeros and Anteros.[1] These chuckleheads are unfortunately distantly related to me. Very damn distantly.”

A slightly deeper voice floats out,

“I never wanted a sister, I’ve always said to Mum that girls are terrible, always bullying us and taking away out better outfits.”

There is a brief silence where everyone is not sure what to make of that when a third male voice whines,

“You dirty rotten scoundrel Pothos, you promised the drag outfit was mine !”

The three very male voices start squabbling in the background while Nico looks helpless and plays a version of whack-a-love-god while trying to shush them. It clicks then.

These jokers were The Erotes.

“Hey !” one of them yells affronted and I realize I’d said that out loud.

“Exactly” says Nico, “and they’re missing their star act Eros because he’s in the big leagues now and doesn’t exactly have time for these losers,”

(“I miss the old days !” “Thinks he’s a big shot now, even though his Armani is so last seaso – ow !”) “and they’ve gone and messed with Katadesmos magic.”

Piper steps in then and it's clear she’s been sitting down on one of them, trying to keep him restrained.

“Katadesmos is a kind of binding magic and because its these three, its specifically for a love spell of sorts. They had no idea what they were doing, because although we found the lead curse tablet bearing the inscription,” she twitches a small tube of lead no longer than my index finger with faint scratches of Greek too small for me to read on it and a lead nail piercing its diameter perpendicularly at one end and coming out the other.

“They insist it was just a joint that they were smoking. We dunno what to make of that.”

“I miss Eros !”

“The bastard, shit, sorry Mum !-always rolled the best blunts.”

“Never here when we need him. Typical."

“It wasn’t so bad though, if I say so myself. I mean, after all, like, I was the one to roll it.”

“You _would_ say so Anteros, we’ve been smoking Jackson here, he’s all loved up with that Chase girlie, all returned requited puppy love. ‘Course you’d be getting the most out of it.”

“Well then you shoulda been plenty high by now Imeros, seeing that they’re probably at it like rabbits all over the place.”

There another moment of stunned silence and then Anteros hesistant for the first time says “Well aren’t they? Rubbin’ bacons ? Fighting the battle of balls deep ? Getting in a little gland-to-gland combat ? Doing some Slytherin her Hufflepuff ? Getting that horizontal refreshment ? C’mon !!”

“That last one was just awful. I can’t believe we’re related.”

“Yeah I’ve always said Antsy here was adopted. Hermione though, mmm-hmmm.”

“Ouch.”

“We thought you knew, Antsy.” Whichever one of the three Erotes it is sounds scandalized.

“Yeah, they’ve got that whole pure love deal. All that wasted unfulfilled desire.”

“No crazy monkey sex happening there Antsy, Imeros and I are totally not happy customers. Worst smoke we’ve ever had. _Inspite_ of putting in the inscription for all that unbridled lust and unrequited love in the tablet-”

“Dude, Ant-man sucks croc balls at rolling the damn tablet into a joint. No wonder its not working on Jackson.”

At that point I cut in. “What do you mean, _smoking_ Percy ?! Wha- how do even- _explain yourselves._ ” It’s barely registered that they’re talking about my sex-life (non-existent) here. I’m too far gone to even be embarrassed, much less furious.

“Whoa there, cool it cowgirl.”

“It’s pretty simple really. We get high off the desires and feelings of whoever it is that we’re smoking in the katadesmos tablet. The more intense the feeling, the higher our high. And right now, we lower than a shawty on the dance floor. Not cool.”

“If the lucky couple are completely in a one-sided tumble in the sack, with plenty of unrequited feelings involved, ding-ding-ding, Pothos has a great time. If they go all freak-in-the-sheets, Imeros has the win. And if its all gooey mushy and romantic and Disney certified then Ants-in-the-pants gets it good.”

“Yeah, So like Di Angelo and Jackson vulcanizing their whoopee sticks” Nico turns a violent shade of maroon and near throttles possibly Pothos , who resolutely ploughs on “would make me very happy. I mean all that once sided death-boy pining, damn, its been millennia since that kind of thing. I mean, I coulda got a match with one of Calypso and her crushes, but ever since she got off that island with the scrawny fire kid that’s outta the question. Disgustingly happy, totally up Antsy’s alley. Plus, we aren’t allowed the hard drugs, ya know, the immortals and stuff. It’s too potent.”

“We just need a bit their of DNA, one of the participating members of the couples’ that is, and voila ! Direct access pass to everything they’re feeling in the sack.”

“Its better than anything off PornHub.”

“Hey, no wait, what about that nanny one, the one where she like, does the pretzel thing-”

“No, I think Katadesmoi joints are better than that. Though imma be joining pilates because it looked plenty fun when she curled up and I wanna try-”

He shuts up quick though, when Piper slides Katoptris under his throat. “Get to the point.” She grits out.

The Erote swallows nervously and with a weak chuckle says, “No pun intended” as he goes cross-eyed trying to follow the pointed tip of her dagger . She pokes him a bit harder. That sobers him even more.

“We came up with a system, see. The nail in the tablet has a twin. If we have a bit of DNA on that, just a coil of hair, a drop of blood, even a bit of saliva really, then its as good as having the DNA actually in the joint itself. We can plant the nail, but finally, we can’t influence whoever picks up the nail and gets some DNA on it.”

My fingers go numb as I remember the scratch Percy had got off Sera’s backpack.

“Who’s idea was it to use Percy ? Why him ?” I demand.

“Why _him_ , oh that’s the easy. Because he’s the best offer we’ve had in a long time, plenty of drama for us three together if all were to go to plan, as we’d written down in the inscription. I mean, I even used a thesaurus.”

“You poor baby.” Imeros coos sympathetically.

“I know right. Like weren’t those things supposed to go extinct with the T-Rex and shit? Anyway, we can’t tell you who suggested that Jackson may be the man for the job. Although they do have a huge vendetta against him. Something about Hera forcining him to write Jackson thank-you cards... ?” he trails off, fishing for information.

“I do love his Harley though. And gods of Olympus, those sunglasses. Swoon.”

Nico, Piper and I exchange a meaningful look. I’m pretty sure who it is, afterall, it’s too much of a coincidence, Percy and I accepting the quest to pick up the Ares kid, and -

“How do we cure him then ?” I question.

“Cure him ?!” Three surprised voices exclaim.

“Darlin’, it’s not a curse, it’s a gift ! He doesn’t _need_ to be _cured_.”

At this point I think I could have told physics toodles and achieved teleportation, if not to physically reached through the rainbow and strangle them.

“Don’t you dare give me that gift bullshit ! He’s going crazy right now, it’s-it’s like he’s splitting into two different people, one telling me to get out of here because he’ll hurt me and the other demanding I stay.” I’m frantic now. My hands have crept up into my hair again.

At that two of the Erotes stick their blonde heads up. They both have fake tans and botoxed looking faces, although the sharp planes and bone structure is undoubtedly Olympian and eerily pretty.

“He’s fighting it.” they chorus, wonderingly.

“So that’s why we can’t feel it. The kid’s fighting your lust clause Imeros, that’s the where the possessiveness and protectiveness are warring. And he’s fighting off _my_ unrequited desire clause. He’s not blaming her for resisting his advances, so it’s not unrequited. Antsy’s feeling it good though because these two love birds genuinely do have a case of the mushies.” deduces Pothos.

“So how do we fix him, you complete tools !? “ Piper snarls.

“You don’t.” Anteros says gently. “There’s only one way and it has to be consensual. He can’t get his rocks off with Mr. Right Hand. Oh, and it has to be with a virgin.”

My throat’s so dry I can barely get out my next question.

“Or what. What happens if he doesn’t have intercourse ?”

“He dies. Or worse, he’ll go insane.” says Anteros softly..

Fuck or Die.

The Percy-voice blissfully unconcerned with the shock incapacitating me reminds me of afternoons spent watching the original series Star Trek marathons. ‘Always wondered what the greek equivalent of Pon Farr would be.’ He says slightly dreamily.

“So you’re saying he’s got to fuck it out of his system with _her_?” Nico barks harshly and I’m numb. I might have bristled at the way he spits it out, like I’m repulsive, but I can clearly see he doesn’t mean it like that at all, worry and something feral in his eyes. He’s hurting too, he doesn’t like this situation anymore than I do, and it’s clear that he’s willing to do whatever it takes.

But even if he’s willing to ‘help’ Percy, he’s too far away and he’s already shadow travelled too much in one day to get back here. He’s scared for me as well and not just Percy. His concern for me gives me new strength when I could find none.

Unfortunately though, Nico’s words have sunk in, and maybe I’d known subconsciously that this is what it would have come down to eventually but I’m the only one who’s going to be able to do anything at all here.

“Or _be_ done.” the Percy-voice wryly comments.

Piper looks like she’s about to be sick. Her eyes are bright with tears when she tells the Erotes, “This isn’t love. Its anything but.” and her voice shakes for the first time this whole quest.

“It’s rape. You’re forcing her to rape Percy and herself, both mentally and physically.”

In all my years of knowing the children of Aphrodite I’ve never been chilled by their words like now. Piper looks up at me then.  
“Annabeth, listen to me, if you can keep just him locked down until we get back, I could try Charmspe-”

I never get a chance to respond to that because just then there’s an almighty bang from the next room and that’s the sound of the bathroom door being blown off its hinges. I drop the torch and prism and bolt back. Or slosh back , as is the case, because there’s a layer of water at least two inches all over room. He’s blown the door with a wave and now as I stumble towards the bathroom, fear for how he may have injured himself choking me, I stop dead at doorway.

He’s bitten clean through his lip, blood pouring down his chin and streaking his neck. The water lapping at his chest is tinted a dull saffron with rivulets of his blood. The little sane voice that sounds like Percy comments in a matter of fact way that he looks like a B-grade horror movie extra. Screw it, the voice is just as insane as the rest of me right now, it’s off the payroll. He’s lost his Henley.

But the waters been working, and its old blood, not fresh, that’s been dribbling down his chin and his torn lip is mostly healed. As he sits up, heaving himself to stand up in the tub, soaked and shivering, I watch as the water surges up seemingly of its own accord and washes away most of the blood on his chin. I’m so surprised to see him drenched when he always stays dry, water droplets running down like diamonds and clinging to every cut and swell of muscle that I blurt out

“Why are you wet ?’ before my brain catches up and yanks me off the Idiot Express. I start to back away just as he gasps out “Had bigger things to worry about than keeping dry.” and then shivers and looks up, predatory and dark.

His head snaps to the side and his full body shudders and when he looks at me again, his expression is more scared than I’ve ever seen, half crazed. He’d looked better in Tartarus even.

“Get out.” he spits, sounding choked, arms curled and fingers clawed at his sides. Behind him, the water in the tub is heaving and splashing over the edge. I’m suddenly aware of a rattling noise, and realise the loose taps are shaking violently, as if about to burst from the water pressure behind them. _Damn_ is he mad.

He vaults over the side of the tub and lands with a wet splat, jeans clinging and tented hugely in the front. My throat dries.

He shivers violently again, and the predator is back, nostrils flaring and the green of his irises a thin ring, even in the dim light from the bathroom.

The grin he gives me then would scare every shark out of the water, teeth bared, and scarlet-smudged with his blood. ‘Good thing you’re not a shark’, the Percy-voice tells me, and to my shock, I feel a jolt of want, _need_ , sudden and fleeting. Short-lived, because I’m too busy being afraid of him right now.

Of _Percy_. Who adores Space Jam and impersonates Elmer Fudd and Kermit like a pro, can sing along (surprisingly sweetly) to every song from the Lion King and declares tickle wars on me every time I defeat him in the sparring ring. And then again, the ridiculousness of being afraid of him hits me hard, and knocks a plan in place. About damn time.

‘Because we’d just about started to question your parentage, isn’t it ?’ comes the dry retort from the Percy-voice, a comforting whisper forever with me. And his voice (I refuse to think of it as imaginary), because I could never be afraid of him, only further burns away my fear and brands in desire.

*

She’s just standing there, face frozen. I can barely string a sentence together, yelling at her to get the hell out of here and _why does she not get it_  that I’m going to snap any moment now and overpower her because I can, I’m bigger, broader, powerful and uncontrollable in this mania and she’s unprotected, the scent coming off her screaming at me to hold her down and taste it off her skin directly. To hold her down and kiss her mouth until she begs for air, to hold her down and pound her into the floor, against the wall, into oblivion. It would’ve been nice if Hercules (useless douchebag) had left behind a handbook or something – _The Pocket guide to dealing with insanity: Not Killing Your Soulmate Edition (special discount for those afflicted !)_

But she’s backing away now slowly, thank Olympus, but even as I lock my muscles and try to stay where I am, she _stops._ What in Tartarus is wrong with her ?

She smiles. _And then she starts moving towards me._

I’m hallucinating now, because Annabeth could never be so foolish, so _foolhardy._ She has to know just how bad this is, how badly off _I_ am. I grit my teeth, narrow my eyes at her, (because hallucination or not I couldn’t live with myself if I break her) and am just about to try to tell her to _get the hell away from me_ when quicker than my eye can follow she whips out her invisibility cap and disappears.

I’m disoriented for a second, senses warring as I can still smell her in the room but can’t see her. And then I’m dizzy as her citrus-jasmine-summer smell hits me hard, something warm and soft collides with my mouth even harder.

I gasp as the empty air in front of me presses flush and warm against me, invisible teeth scraping over my lips, invisible hands knotting in my hair and pulling me down as she deepens the kiss. My vision tints red then, sparks flying up my spine as I lose the few shreds of self control I have and grab her.

Except its empty air that my arms close around, because she’s pulled off me, scent wafting away.

“Hey slowpoke. Thought you liked me” she calls out from my left, but something splashes off to my right disorienting me again, and I groan with frustration at this game she’s playing. _I’m never ever going to make things easy for you, Seaweed Brain,_ her words from a million years and 3 summers ago come back to me.

“Let’s make a deal” her voice rings out from the middle now, and the room door squeaks open. “Catch me and you can keep me, okay?” and then she slams the door shut and is off running judging from the sounds of the thumping of her feet. It’s locked. It makes me want to laugh, and so I do, because all of a sudden, the cheap plywood looks no sturdier than paper and I get the doors off its hinges in one kick. I didn’t even have to blast it with water this time. She hasn't left a trail of wet shoe prints on the dry floor of the other room.

She’s left something better.

Because clear in the stale air her scent is the only thing I smell as I throw back my head and breathe in deep. I begin to follow.

I lose time or time contracts and blurs- It doesn’t matter. Eventually I find her, back in the room adjacent to the bathroom. The water has drained away into the cracks between the floorboards, and it swirls and ripples away from me like some modern Moses as I walk a dry path through it towards her panicked and frozen form. The cap is clutched in her hand, because even the prey knows when the hunt is over and its time to submit and give up.

And then it’s back, crippling and blinding as I sink to my knees.

Self awareness.

Reality.

I know exactly what’s happening to me, and exactly what’s going to happen to Annabeth if she touches me. I’ll break her, I’ll break us both. And still she’s coming towards me.

“Percy. Look at me.”

*

“Please. Don’t. No _no_ please please _please ._ ”

He’s begging.

In seven years of knowing him, I’ve never heard Percy beg for a thing, from neither mortal nor god. It could just as well have been seven lifetimes.

His face is crumpled, eyes screwed shut and tear tracks snaking down his cheeks.

My vision blurs and it feels like a knife twisting in my chest to watch him reduced to this creature, shaking and trembling as he locks his arms behind his back, stifling gasps even as he tries to minimize his movements because even the gentlest of brushes of fabric against the straining denim of his jeans spikes lust through him.

His sudden and violent swings between lust and this crippling fear are giving me whiplash. I can’t even begin to imagine how much this must be hurting him. I step forward and he sobs out loud, falling off his knees backwards to land on his behind. It would have been funny, but it’s one of the singular most heart-breaking things I’ve ever seen, and the memory of him frantically scrabbling away from me still on his rear will be eternally burned into my head. He moves back until he hits the wall and then curls up on himself, arms tightly wrapped around his knees, like the worlds’ most precious and only sexually frustrated hedgehog. And that thought right there is confirmation that I’ve reached the critical level of crazy required to go ahead with this next thing. (Honestly, hedgehogs.)

I drop to my knees in front of him, getting down to his level and trying to coax him at the instinctual level that’s clearly the only part of his psyche under his conscious control right now that I’m a safe person, I’m going to help him. He only drops his head lower onto his bare chest and further shies away from me, shaking like a leaf.

“Percy, I need you to trust me. You need to get it out of your system, we don’t have a choice.” Losing him is not an option. I’d rather lose my soul and paradise than be the architect of a universe without him in it.

“Let me help you.”

He whimpers.

“ _Please_ Percy”, because now it’s my turn to beg.

“We’re a team, in it together till the end. Remember what you promised me, Percy. You’re never letting me go. So if you can’t keep it, I will. I’m never leaving you. But seeing you suffer through this is killing me more than it’s killing you. Let me do this for you. Let me keep us alive, because there’s no me without you, αγαπώ.

Live for me, love. Just do it. Fuck me.”

He shatters.

One moment he was cussing in a constant buzzing stream as he struggled to get my clothes off with fumbling fingers and in the next, he’d gripped my wrists together in one hand with a bruising, crushing strength, locking my hands behind my back.

He kneed open my legs and pinned me to the wall with his hips angled, his free hand creeping up my arm. When he reached the knife holster strapped around my bicep, I tensed. He passed over my Boker Magnum Ring-o and stopped at the other, my tactical Karambit knife.

After losing Lukes’ knife in Tartarus I’d made it a point to carry more than one knife with me at all times, and the Karambit doubling as both a utility knife and a combat knife had soon become my favourite. I’d had Leo specifically cast the Indonesian origin knife in Celestial Bronze for me. Being a daughter of Athena meant learning and assimilating the best of everything around me, and boy were those Indonesians badass. The blunt steel studs on leather covered ring-grip at the base of the handle were my idea though. I knocked out douchebags on principle and being a mortal wasn’t an excuse, especially when I was alone somewhere strange and a _Not Interested. Shove off_ wasn’t understood.

He pulled it out of its sheath carefully, the arching blade gleaming dully in the dim light. And then in a move too quick for my eye to follow, he flipped the knife into the correct grip and slashed open my shirt from collar till hem. I’ve never stopped breathing so quickly.

The knife clattered to the floor as the halves of my shirt fell limp and parted. It hadn’t even nicked me.

And then Percy’s expression changed from lust-darkened eyes and slack-jawed intensity to one of bemusement.

He blinked hard then and stepped back, cocked his head and sounding exactly like his usual Seaweed Brain self said to me,

“So does this make me the Bad Piggy ?”

I looked down at my chest, at the ridiculous and lurid Angry Birds bra that I wore, the one only reserved for laundry related emergencies. _Balls._

‘Serves you right for being sloppy about laundry,’ says the Percy-voice.

But then as I look up to explain, his hungry expression is back with a vengeance, the momentary shock that had shaken him out of the mania now gotten over.

He reaches for me then, ignoring my mostly bared chest and popping the button and yanking down the zipper of my jeans. He doesn’t wait for me push them down my legs myself, and instead shoves them down until they stick at the top of my calf-length boots into which they’re tucked.

As he undresses me, I notice the strange sort of ritualism that he seems to be following; if I’d been as lust-crazed as he is, I wouldn’t have bothered with the total stripping, just gone for the gold as soon as the bare essentials were off. And Percy being as impatient as he is, added to the ridiculous levels of horniness definitely wouldn’t have bothered with all the layers first. It makes me think that there’s more to this spell than the Erotes had let on, but I can’t put my finger on it, almost like this, _we,_ are a display of some sort...

But before I can let that thought run to its conclusion, I’m distracted.

By the way he stands with just the tips of his feet on the tips of my boots, barely pinching my toes, and then wraps his arms tightly around my waist and _lifts me out of my boots_ as he holds them down, jeans and socks and all.

I may clutch at his hair with both arms thrown around his head and flail a bit as I’m lifted higher. And then bite my tongue to stifle my gasp as the movement makes the cool tip of his nose nuzzle into the valley between my breasts.

He puts me down quick and gentle and steps back to take a look, his gaze a strange combination of heated and clinical, raking down my body. The chill in the air prickling down my bare legs makes me shiver.

And then for the second time within two minutes, he snaps out of the lust-haze and comes to his senses.

Oh no. What have I worn now ?

We both zero in on the slogan splashed boldly across my eye-wateringly lime green undies at the same time.

_Where no man has gone before_ they declare proudly on the front. With a sinking feeling I remember that the back states _For everything there is a first time._ Oh the irony.

I tell myself to get over the mortification. It just isn’t the same as in movies, where the lucky lady has a perfect matching lacy set. After years and years of sharing a room with my siblings, I still haven’t encountered any girl who consciously matches her underwear everyday. At this point I don’t think I even own a matching set. And lace is just itchy.

And I fucking _love_ Star Trek.

Seriously though, I mean its _underwear,_ people are not supposed to see it on the outside, unless you’re Batman (in which case, Carry the heck On) or you’ve been epically pantsed (in which case, pull down any remaining clothing, people stop gawking pretty quick.) Hence my underwear is for my eyes (and amusement) only, and I shouldn’t be blushing like crazy at the half-grin on his face. My undies. Mine.

But apparently, the Trekkie panties turn him on, because his bemused look morphs to one of naked want immediately. Nerdgasm.

The bra doesn’t bother him at all- he simply rips it apart, strength on brutal display. I honestly can’t say I’ll miss it. But I do like the panties, so I tug them down and fling them off myself before they get shredded as well. His jeans and boxers follow as well. I deliberately don’t look away from his face.

Percy fucks like he fights. Fast and deadly. He’s always been strong, but now he picks me up (“Do you have _any_ idea how hard it was to run with a boner this size ?”) and it’s all I can do to hold on, wobbling until he _growls_ at me and then holds me up with a single forearm under my thighs while he hitches my legs around his waist.

“Get with the program Annabeth” he rasps in my ear and then bites the shell of it.

I burst into goosebumps then, and the Percy-voice helpfully adds that we’ve seen Thanksgiving Turkeys that looked better than me. That’s it, I’m calling the Percy-voice PeeWee from now on. Until the stupid thing develops beyond a ten year olds’ sense of humour.

The miniscule part of me that’s not going !!!!!!!!!!!!!! squeaks at him in a tiny voice “Not complaining about all those hours of weight training at camp I made you do now, huh ?”

He pulls back, and even with flushed cheeks and glazed eyes pulls off a look so supremely unimpressed and so completely _Percy_ that I slot my mouth against his and kiss it off his face, before he can start to answer.

And then he’s slamming me into the wall, the impact making my head snap back and crack against it. I’m still blinking the fuzziness out of my vision when his teeth scrape down my neck, leaving the trail burning in his wake. I squeeze my eyes shut as his mouth, fever hot traces back along the same path. It stings a bit, his chapped lips catching the tender skin there, but it’s the panic that’s shortening my breath and making it painful. This isn’t my Percy, who kisses me like I’m an explosive, a bomb just about to go off; gentle, thorough, firm and like it may be his last kiss. It’s been that way since Hera took him.

‘Show him whose boss then’, says PeeWee, and so I grab a handful of tangled, wet hair and pull his lips back to mine. He tastes bloody, lips roughened with dried blood reminding me of the metallic tang of battle. But we _are_ fighting, have been since we were twelve, fighting to keep the other alive. And we continue to do so now as he forces my mouth open with his and licks in. I buck against him, trying to challenge his hold on me and nearly bite his tongue off when his erection under rough denim catches and grazes me in just the right spot. He thrusts at me now, knocking me into the wall again and again, nailing me just right. I can feel the thud of the bass in the wall I’m pressed against, and he thrusts against me in time to the Vengaboy’s number thumping down in the club.

(PeeWee says to tell you that the song is 24 Hours Passion. How apt.)

The first thing about my plan was that it’s _not_ supposed to work. Well, at least in the long run. He was supposed to catch me eventually after our insane game of hide-and-seek in this labyrinthine house, but the chase was supposed to give me time to figure out silly little details like _oh, protection! Because I’m not up all night to get lucky and I don’t have a condom on me !_ maybe, and _where in this dump are we actually going to get down to it_? I’m not panicking, nope, not even a little. ‘Deep breaths Annabeth, deep breaths. You’re hyperventing.’ PeeWee reminds me warily.

He drops me suddenly, and its only years of battle reflexes that let me land without wrenching my ankle. In the second I’ve taken to right myself, shocked as the fever heat of his body leaves me cold, he’s stumbled back several steps, expression terrified and beseeching. My Percy’s back again. “You need to put the cap back on.” He chokes out.

“It won’t help, you can still track me by scent,” I argue.

His face contorts with multiple emotions, settling on desperation as he raises his hands to his head and presses it had has he starts to shake his head vigorously. “Trust me, just do it.”

“But-”

“DO IT !” he yells, voice cracking , and then all traces of distress are wiped away by the smooth hunger of the sexual hunter he curse has turned him into. He stalks towards me again, as I put the cap back on and tighten the Velcro at the back to keep it firmly on my head.

We stand there inches apart, chests heaving in harmony, working up the courage to make the next move. And then he’s got me pinned against the wall, forearm just under my neck. He turns me around so quick that I’d have fallen if it weren’t for his body immediately pressing flush against my back holding me up. Miraculously the cap has still stayed on my head, even as my forehead scrapes against the rough plaster of the wall. His mouth searches, breath hitching as he finds the join of my neck and shoulder.

“I can’t look at you if I do this. _When_ I do this.” He whispers, low and tortured.

“I’ll keep the cap on.” I sass back. Maybe not the best time for it.

He bows his head then, I feel the heat of his moan fan across my shoulder blades.

“Kill me after. I won’t be able to live with myself once I do this to you, so kill me after.” He grits out.

“Death by orgasm’s a good way to go.” I whisper back. And then I cry out as he bites my shoulder hard, maybe hard enough to draw blood.

He groans long and drawn out and ruts against me then, once, twice, thrice. Reaching up, arm shaking and fingers trembling, he lifts the cap off my head bringing me back into view. Before I can say a word though he gently turns my head to the side, nearly making my teeth chatter with how hard his fingers are shaking. Just about able to look me in the eye.

“I’m sorry.” he says, and it’s a plea and an apology all at once.

Then he simultaneously yanks the cap back down on my head and slams into me from behind.

And I’m screaming and screaming and he as he fills me, burning like fire in his wake, the sharp pinch of my hymen breaking tiny compared to the stretch-ache- _burn_ of him breaching me _._ We both are.

He pulls out and then again pushes into me, pain _pain burn._

And again. And again. He’s the only thing holding me up against the wall as my knees give way, no time to get used to the feeling of him within me like fire, too full, too much.

My hands scrabble against the wall, fingers clawing the paint as I desperately seek something to dig them into.

And then his hands creep up from where they’ve left purpling swathes on my hips and slide down my arms, jerky and searching. A single broken sob sounds as his fingers entwine with mine, curling around with his palms against the backs of my hands. I can’t tell if it was him or me. He lifts our hands to the wall then, holding them against it, locking our bent elbows and keeping me from getting crushed between his body and the wall as he helplessly keeps pounding, in and out of me.

I watch dizzily _through_ myself as his cock seemingly contracts on its own, flushed bright and gleaming every time he enters me. It’s smeared with blood, spreading the stain with every thrust within me. Its becomes too much then, too much to process and my vision shimmers and whites out. I distantly hear a shout of, “Annabeth _no_ ! ” and then I’m drifting.

As I drift I dream. In my dream, Percy is still slamming into me helplessly, body a slave to his curse, but he’s begging and pleading with me. Don’t leave me, he says. Don’t let me be the one to do this to you, he pleads. He’s weeping – I’m not sure why. It’s not like he is hurting m- And then consciousness returns and with it sensation. I gasp as the stretch-burn registers, sharp and leaving a numbness in my fingertips, but this time the pain is not as unbearable as the first time. I dredge up a bit of trivia, that penetration will hurt if the vaginal passage is un-lubricated and if the woman is tense or under stress, her muscles tightening automatically. So I force myself to breathe deep, bracing myself more securely against the wall and dragging our entwined right hands to place his over my heart.

“Keep pace with this,” I tell him, the frenzied beat slowing as I shut my mind and focus on breathing deep, and not feeling the pounding of him into me, focussing on the heat of him burning my back, hot like a furnace, like a hearth, like home...And as I begin to relax, as does my heart, his frenetic pounding into me slows, and the pain dulls a bit. He swivels his hips and the pressure within peaks maddeningly, even as the way his fingers clench painfully around mine tell me it’s doing good for him. But I can’t push back into him, and I can’t support our combined weights much longer. As I start to fret about my strength failing, my heartbeat picks up again and with it, his pace one more. But this time his trusts are erratic, and his hands in mine are trembling. He buries his face in the crook of my shoulder and then bites down on the ridge of muscle there, muffling his cry as he climaxes within me.

We both sink to the floor panting, and wheezing in my case. I knock off the invisibility cap as I go. There’s a pulsating throb in my passage, but I’ve no idea how to soothe it. The curse should be broken now that he’s had me but even as I turn around to check, we both look down in to see his cock shift and then steadily flush and harden to bob against his stomach. The tiny bit of relief I feel is only for the fact that the hazy, lost look had cleared from his eyes, leaving his gaze sharp and clear as usual. And panicked right now.

“Bad Vlad ! Down boy, down!” he yelps and grabs at his dick and then yelps again as the action on his sensitive flesh only aggravates the problem, Vlad standing up impossibly straighter.

“I-I don’t- Annabeth I’m sorry I can’t help it- this is-oh my go-” he stammers, when I clap a hand over his mouth. No need to involve the extended family. His eyes widen at his near mistake and he nods against my palm to indicate it’s safe to remove my hand.

I get to my knees shakily. Apparently, just a deflowering isn’t enough. Knowing the ancient Greeks and having a vague understanding about how love curses in the stories worked, I have a feeling that a quickie won’t cut it. Unbridled Passion, is the term that comes to mind, and as I push the still stammering boy onto his back think that this is going to be a very _very_ long night.

“Let me take care of it, I tell him.”

He refuses to lie back fully, even as his pelvis bucks up to greet me as I straddle him.“I’ll take care of it, self-service for the win Annab-”

“You know masturbating only made better for a few minutes and increasingly worse after. Every time you came out from the washroom your frustration only mounted.” I conveniently leave out how now that he’s fulfilled the virginity clause, it’s just the side effects we have to get through now.

“Yeah but-”

“No buts. Well, not unless it’s your butt.”

“Annabeth ! I can’t let you do this-”

I poke him in the chest.“And since when have you _let_ me do anything I’ve really wanted to hmm ?”

He catches my wrist feebly and tries the puppy eyes “C’mon Annabeth please don’t-”

He cuts off with a hiss, sucking air through his teeth as I hold him then; shaft firm and curiously smooth under my fingers and position him below me.“You know, you’re probably the only eighteen year old guy who doesn’t want his girlfriend riding him. Feeling mighty slighted here, Percy” I say, trying to work up my own courage to slide down on his length.

He makes a little squeaking noise in response, mouth open and eyes rolled up. The problem of lubrication still persist though, so I suck on three fingers and try and wet myself downstairs a bit. To my sheer relief, I’ve started to moisten a bit, and it still won’t be smooth, but it can’t hurt more than the first time. The first time- I repress a shudder. And then before I can scare myself anymore, I go down on him. Percy is incoherent, and I’m on my way there too, with the way I fill up again. But this time, I’m controlling the speed, and I slowly ease down on him, giving myself time to adjust. After what seems like forever, I reach the bottom and open my eyes, to find him watching me transfixed. I wiggle a bit, trying to get used to the invasive pressure within me and instinctively his hips buck up to press himself further into me.

“Do that again.” he whispers, his hand searching for mine. He interlocks our fingers.

Experimentally, I swivel my hips and gasp at the sensation, as does he. And then, because nobody can accuse us of not being quick learners, I rise off him a bit and come down again, adding a rocking motion towards the front. This angle and position sends him deeper in me than before, but it’s a lot more manageable than before. And for the first time, a jolt of pleasure runs through me. I begin to chase after it, motions getting wider and more sweeping. As we get the hang of it, his pelvis coming up to meet mine, I’m aware of the music from the club downstairs. Corona’s Rhythm of the Night is pushing me into a steady swivel-slide-up and down movement . Sweat pools in the hollow of my throat and trickles down by back, making my right hand slip where it’s braced against his chest. Percy’s face is caught in a snarl, eyes scrunched close and teeth gritted. He could have just as well have been in pain, except for the gravel-timbered encouragement he conveys with every “Harder”, “Move” and “ _Fuck_ , Annabeth, don’t stop.” My thighs are trembling under me and my legs are starting to stiffen and lock up, dizzy pleasure making it difficult to think when he lets lose a low, hollow cry, primal and wanting. Within me, I feel him softening and lean forward to brush my lips against his own reddened and bitten mouth. He’s completely out for a few moments, and a burst of fatigue makes me collapse on his chest, Percy still partially within me. As I listen to the tattoo of his heart gentle, my mind wanders even as my clitoris is now throbbing almost painfully, still wound up tight and unreleased even after two rounds in quick succession. Here I though women were lucky to be able to have multiple orgasms....As we lie there, I find myself in agreement with Marvin Gaye. He was really onto something, that guy... I could do with Sexual Healing....

I wake after a bit, cradled against his chest with his arms slack around me, and as Percy drifts further and further away into slumber, the water surrounding us slowly creeps back and decreases our island of clean, dry floor. I’m feeling more than listening to the melody playing under us, the gentle strains of The Seekers singing Never Find Another You thrumming through my bones when I idly notice the arrested progress of the water; it’s started to recede once again. Beneath me Percy stirs and his arms tighten around me.

“All these great songs that are ruined for my public listening. Vlad’s gonna stand up and salute every time I hear the Venga Boys now,” he sighs.

“And Mom has all their albums...” he throws an arm over his face, muffling his voice as he groans.

I don’t feel too bad for him. It simply means that the next time I want to get him all hot and bothered I just have to whistle one of these songs. Fun times for me. Even though we had a-Ah, rough initial meeting, I’m now quite fond of Vlad. He _is_ pretty impressive. And then I blink, because Percy referring to his dick by name I get, its _Percy_ for cryin’ out loud. His default setting is to defy all reason.

But there is no way I’m calling it anything more specific than Percy Jr. or Little Percy.

‘Kinda like Little John’, the bored sounding, off-duty PeeWee says. And hades is it true, Percy’s nearly too large for me. Because I’m sore sore sore and all my damn rambling over his equipment got me wet again. It could’ve been worse, I think. He could have called it Riptide Version 2.0.

His senses are still cranked up to full sensitivity because he smells my fresh arousal then and he smiles wider and wider, until he’s chuckling, soft puffs of air tickling coolly right over my labia from where he looks up like he’s asking for permission to eat me out. When did he even get down there ?

I don’t know how much of this I can take anymore. Death by Orgasm, I remember telling him. Of course at the time, I was trying to tease him, when clearly it was myself I had to worry about, because the boy is already half-hard again, with almost no refractory period, and I could _cry_ because I want him in me so badly, but the strong deep ache throbbing since our first time won’t even let me close my legs completely . I’m irritable now, feeling like myremekes are crawling under my skin. I’m annoyed that Mr. Wham-bam-thank-you ma’am here is all bright eyed and bushy tailed because he’s got the post-coital glow going on. So I’m taken by surprise when he grows impatient at my indecisiveness and presses his mouth just over my clit, and _Oh gods_ -hums against me.

And my poor sore and sensitive and over-stimulated clitoris throbs and pulses in time to the steady vibration of his voice as he hums along to the song that’s now playing in the club below us, his lips forming words pulling and rubbing against slick flesh. Once his teeth come into play though I lose myself, lose every shred of tenuous control left in me as I grip his head between my thighs and push, my entire pelvis lifting off the floor, pulling that wild mouth of his to mash right into me. He reply is an eloquent “Mmph-”. My Percy, the consummate wordsmith, I think fondly.

In response he simply pulls my thighs apart until the entire breadth of his shoulders fits between my legs and oh no _oh no_ \- the sensation becomes so very intense that I buck into his face repeatedly until his arms press down on my hips and restrain me, muscles trembling with the effort of keeping me down. But he goes on and on with the song relentlessly, mercilessly.

My legs are stiffening , joints locking and suddenly he’s not working me fast enough. And then he’s not working me at all. _No ! Go back!_ Oh, he’s coming up for air. But the insanely coiled feeling is rapidly slipping away and it took so much work to get to it and- his mouth is back. Somewhere a whole choir of little Me’s are singing Alleluia. Let them.

I’m too busy feeling my finger tips and my toes going numb as my legs lock completely and the tremors across my shoulders and down my spine begin. I whimper and plead and cry and scream and before I know it my throat is raw. My brain shorts as I watch his raven head bob between my legs. The Big-O. This is it, just a little more, _nearly there_... and then to my complete horror, I feel the need to _pee_. This is not happening. I _cannot_ , under any circumstances, _pee_ on my best friend. I don’t want to pee on him ! No _no_ no “No, Percy, I’m gonna-” I try to tell him, reaching down to push him off me. And that’s when he _bites_ my clitoris, firm and hard, lips sheathing the sharpest of the bite and pulling off with the barest scrape of teeth.

I have no idea of what happens next.

All I know is something deep inside me snaps as Def Leppards’ Hysteria amplifies and mirrors my own, making my throat clench and my feet flex. Meteors shower down and burn across my eyes infinitely as I lie wrung out on the beach, exhausted and so so satisfied for I don’t know how long, feeling the edge of frustration receding off my own arousal in the afterglow. Even the burning ache up my passage has dulled to just an itch and I squeeze my legs shut in a bid to further quell it.

And then a wave washes over my face, its taste salty and sharp in my mouth and as I gasp as more water rushes in cutting off my breath and- my eyes snap open then, only to lock onto his hazed green eyes, wide open and waiting for mine to meet his gaze as his tongue continues to explore my mouth.

He pulls off me slow and teasing, making me follow his mouth starving for his lips to be back on mine.

“Female ejaculation huh, Annabeth?” he smirks. So _that’s_ what it was. Thank the go- thank goodness. I stretch out my neck and bite the tip of his nose, making him yelp. He smashes his mouth to mine then, teeth clacking.

We keep our eyes open, blatant challenge in his as he kisses like it’s a battle, throwing down the gauntlet for I don’t even know what competition, but I pick it up nonetheless and nip back, fighting tooth and nail and tongue as he climbs over me without breaking the kiss, instead pulling my upper lip between his teeth, heavy and heated and heaving as he bears only a small part of his own weight on his arms, crushing the breath out of me.

Apparently fucking and fighting are what my lizard brain’s good for, because if he’s fighting dirty so can I and it’s on pure instinct that my hand works its way (defying all laws of 3-dimensional volumetric physics) between our fused bodies to curl tightly around his cock and squeeze.

He breaks off quickly, hissing loudly as his back bows sharply when he raises himself off me completely, except for where his pelvis is still pressed against mine, cock streaking a damp trail against my stomach as the force or his movements drag my hand still coiled around him up as he’d lurched.

I thumb his slit and twist my wrist as I leave him and he breathes deep, looking, no, glaring at me with narrowed eyes before his expression changes like quicksilver, becoming concerned, uncertain and tendereven.

Slowly, he eases back down on me, supporting himself this time, nuzzling the side of my neck, my cheek, before moving to my ear to ask hesitantly, “May I-are you-I mean, d’you think you’re ready? ”

So I reach down once more and gentle this time around, grip and guide him as he moves with me to position him at my entrance.

His smile stops the world spinning on its axis then, or maybe that’s just me. I’d thought it impossible for one to combine rough sex with a look so meltingly sweet and earnest, delighted at being allowed to share this with me, but as usual Percy doesn’t so much defy expectations as merely point and laugh at them before exceeding them completely. He kisses me so oh so softly then, just his mouth on mine with barely there butterfly brushes that aim for a different spot with every approach, nectar sweet.

He slowly pushes into me then, and this time my passage slick and lubricated with muscles still relaxed post-orgasm stretches without the burn. Just that heady, intoxicating feeling of over-fullness that so unpleasant the first time and still alien the second time now leaves me breathless in the best way possible.

He gently kisses my eyelids, and I realise that my eyes had shut in bliss. But I need to see this, Percy unbridled and free, in his element- gentle and as powerful as the ocean.

He’s glowing, as I look up at him. There’s no other way to describe it, the way awe, respect, and overwhelming, fantastic and breathtaking _love_ radiates out from him and washes over me.

He moves against me, within me, with me.

For the first time tonight, we’re making love, and although I’ve never teetered on the edge of pleasure and intensity to the degree that I have in these few short hours, I’ve never felt more alive and visceral. Never felt so completely part of another being, our very souls in resonance with each other and the result blinding and beautiful. In my eighteen years no revelation has been so earth-shaking, and I wonder how I’ve ever lived since knowing him without feeling this storm of all-consuming want, of _need_ to be in unity with this boy.

His fingers feather light and worshipful trail down my face, my neck, in my hair.

“Annabeth,” he says, voice and eyes and tone conveying a million sentiments and just one in that word.

Singularity.

The words jumps unbidden to my mind. All-encompassing and absolute. Singularity. A black hole is a singularity, a point that re-writes the laws of our known universe, bends the fabric of reality and exists quiet and powerful. An infinite point that claims everything, _conquers_ everything that crosses its path. It draws in light and fills its heart with the captured brilliance. Percy and I are a singularity in that moment.

We’ve seen and now become the other’s infinity.

*

We lie there, each warming the other. The BeeGees’ Saturday Night Fever floats comfortingly in the air; my dad loved the BeeGees and he’d play a so many of their songs at home.Percy has his back to me, letting me be the big spoon. As I memorize the flowing contours of his back, now covered in the bright welts and scarlet crescents left by my nails, I see the it for the first time.

The tattoo is simple, sharp in its black lines and stark even against the light copper of the skin on his back. The characters of the Alpha and Omega symbols are spartan and unadorned, composed of finely lettered yet simple greek script. Names.

The first letter making up the Alpha is Sally. Followed by Paul, Poseidon, Tyson, Grover, Hazel, and Frank. The names continue in the Omega- Leo, Piper, Jason, Reyna. Nico’s name it right next to mine, and I’m the very last name, the Omega of the Omega. I trace the symbols with a finger tip, and he hums contentedly. I’m shocked that I’ve never seen this before. Even after the loss of the Achilles curse, the small of his back is still the most sensitive part of him, the most vulnerable. The significance of its positioning is not lost on me; we’re the ones who guard his Achilles Heel, who protect his humanity and mortality.

“Mom’s at the start of the Alpha because she was my beginning, the most important part of who I was. But I want for nothing and for nobody but you to be my end.” He says quietly, and moves my fingers until it rests over my name, having blindly positioned it perfectly. I stay silent for a long time, trying to swallow past the lump in my throat.

When I can finally speak without my voice breaking I ask him,

“When did you get this ?”

He chuckles low and husky then, and rolls over to face me. He props himself up on his elbow and with his free hand reaches out and twirls a stray stand of hair round his fingers.

“So, you remember that road trip just us guys took once Leo came back ?”

I nod; They’d taken the newly reconstructed flying chariot and had dropped off the radar for four days. Calling it a road-trip was generous; from the few stories we’d managed to coax out of them once they got back, the outing made even the Hangover look like a bunch of guys just watching the grass grow.

He clearly understands exactly what I’m thinking about and snickers again, laying back down with his arms behind his head. I breathe in deep as the action makes his biceps flex. Somebody might just be turning into a nymphomaniac here.

“Well, we five got amazingly smashed one night and found ourselves near a tat-parlour. Since Jason was leading the charge, we figured why the heck not. I don’t remember much of that night, but Frank, Leo, Jason, Nico and I were all inked the next morning. Jason still won’t tell us where he got his and Frank tried to make us swear on the Styx to never tell what he got.” His grin rivals the Joker’s.

“Still though, I think this has been one of my better ideas, especially because it’s perfect and not something I would’ve been able to come up with sober.”

“It’s magical.” I tell him. “I couldn’t imagine something more _you_.” His eyes dance as his smile gentles. I don’t have it in me to ruin the moment and joke something about how only maybe seaweed might compare. Leave A Tender Moment Alone starts up below us and serendipitously reminds me to do just that. Before I know it, Cliff Richards’ Devil woman in drifting by as well.

We listen to the sound of each other breathing, while the music humming in the floorboards makes his fingers tap out a gentle rhythm on my arm.

He clears his throat and scratches at the asterix scar on his palm then. I wonder what has got him nervous, but before I can ask he beats me to the punch.

“Care to dance ?” he murmurs, half hopeful, and full apprehensive.

And I have to kiss him at that, because we’ve just spent the whole night in each other’s arms, yet leave it to Percy to make the moment even sweeter.

“Making up for not being a gentleman about other earlier activities ? ” I tease.

“Even we cavemen have standards to kiss and make up, since just kissing is a bit tame after all...that.” he flaps a hand lazily in reference to our rodeo rounds.

“Feel free to start making up as soon as you please then.” I tell him as he pulls me to my feet. My knees are still jelly and he catches me as I stumble when the vertigo hits. He tries to make me lie back down, but I’m adamant. Dancing with Percy (well, swaying really, Sally is still teaching him and Paul actually brings out popcorn to watch) is not something I’d ever miss the opportunity to do. And so he gently twirls me in a patch of moonlight that streaks its way coolly into the room. Sheryl Crowe sings about Believing softly under our feet, and the sound of him softly singing to me, keeping time with my heart gives me something more precious than anything I’ve yet know, to believe in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Epilogue

I think I’m turning into a vampire. The sunlight burns my eyes when I open them and my head pounds with my pulse. I feel worse than hungover. A hungover vampire. Plus, it’s too cold, except for where swathes of warmth wrap around my torso and tuck into my side. I brave the sunlight again and turn towards the warmth. A haze of gold greets me, and I slowly make out the shape of Annabeth tucked into my side, curled into a ball, with her hair catching the light and glowing almost. My brain comes online then. Ah, it notices, no clothes explain the cold then. I lie there for a minute, trying to come to terms with what happened last night. Everything is crystal clear, yet it feels like I was a passenger in my own body. Slow as possible, I move out from under her arm, and she snuffles adorably before curing in further on herself. By the time I do a sweep of the house, coming back with our shredded and shed clothes, and discarded weapons, she’s wide awake and sitting up, shivering.

I want to say something, _anything_ , to her, but when I open my mouth no words come out. Her shirt is unsalvageable, she wears my hoodie instead. We sit down next to each other then, and wait for Nico and Piper to contact us.

So I’m not that surprised when they tell us that ‘Sera’ was no half-blood. Annabeth and I were surprised though to know how convincing a twelve year old girl Ares made. It should have been clear though, Sera was just an anagram of Ares, there was no way he’d be more creative.

_“Ares ?!”_ Annabeth fumes.

Sometimes I wonder why exactly we side with the gods. Sure, they’re our parents. But I really think we do it just because it’s easier. It’s easier than the alternative, which is cutting ourselves off from their world, or the other option, which is joining whichever side wishes to over throw the Olympians. It’s unknown, an option un-explored and it’s this uncertainty that we shy away from. Its simpler to put up with their shit because at the very least its something we expect and know how to deal with. It’s a known devil.

“The Erotes were kind of blatant with who exactly their sponsor was.” pointed out Piper.

“The bigger issue is this- the entire thing, it was all on a live stream to Olympus TV. Apparently, one of Ares’ pet stymphalian birds camped outside your window the whole night and got the first part on film. When the Erotes let slip about the feed, we called Chiron who called Athena who made roast Stymphalian and gave Ares a piece of her mind.” she continued.

I look at Annabeth. “At least it’s not Hephaestus TV in Waterland this time.

“He know us personally now, he wouldn’t do something like that to the two of us.” she says. I grimace but don’t say anything. Hephaestus most likely wouldn’t even know about this type of a ploy, locked up in his workshop as he is; he’d much less be able to stop it. Annabeth nervously picking at my hoodie distracts me. I try not to think about the reason for why she doesn’t have a shirt anymore. Nico seemingly reads my mind and answers my next question before I can ask it.

“It’s not as bad as it could have been. For one thing, the lighting was really bad. We couldn’t see much. Audio was pretty clear though.” And he winces hard.

“You watched it ?” I question. I don’t know what my face looks like, but he clenches his jaw and looks away, giving a single sharp jerk of his head. It’s not like I’m oblivious to the fact the Nico still sort of looks up to me. It couldn’t have been easy to see me lose control so badly for him. My heart shrivels a bit.

Piper looks between us and tries to ease the tension a bit.

“Well we did hear the last part, when you tell Annabeth to er, to um...”

“To kill you after.” Nico finishes sharply, still not looking at either of us. Annabeth’s hand clenches around mine.

“You two have been summoned to Olympus actually, by Athena. Now would be a good time to go. I could shadow travel you to the Empire State.” Nico offers, still a little distant.

Annabeth quickly waves his offer away.

“You need to keep your strength up, Nico. Piper and you have been on your feet the whole night. Get back to Camp and crash out, we’ll take the Gray Sister’s taxi.”

I feel terrible at the relived look on his face. The poor kid must be beat, about a minute away from falling asleep on his feet. Piper sways on her feet and all three of us reach out to steady her.

She lets out a massive yawn. “Sounds like a great idea. Shall we Nico ?” she asks, holding out her hand for him to take it.

Annabeth steps forwards and hugs Piper tightly. She does the same to Nico, but kisses him on the cheek in addition. He smiles bashfully.

“Thank both for helping us through this nightmare. We’d be dead in the water if it weren’t for you two.”

“Nah, we like you both better alive,” Nico tells her, still shy. Piper nods. And then snores a bit.

“Right, we’d better be off. Tell us everything that happens when you guys decide to come back to camp. Maybe stay at Percy’s place a while, let the gossip settle down a bit even at camp.” he suggests.

“That’s brilliant, Nico. Will do.” I tell him. We shake hands then, and he pokes Piper awake. And then they’re gone.

While we hang on for dear life in the Gray Sisters’ taxi, I turn to Annabeth.

“Was it just me or did Nico seem more shaken than he should be ? ”

She cutches the seat a little tighter. “Of course he was, Percy. There’s no way he wouldn’t be.”

I gulp. “Well it probably sucked croc balls for him.”(one of the old ladies, it might be Tempest screeches “Language !” from the front) “I mean, he does still look up a bit to me I guess so it must’ve been unnerving to see me lose it like that. It really isn’t a good thing if he still feels that way though.”

She gives me a funny look then. “You do know that he doesn’t _just_ look up to you, right ?”

“What do you mean?”

Annabeth sighs then. “I swear Percy, you are so _blind_ at times. He still hasn’t gotten over you. I can only imagine how much it must’ve hurt him to have to listen to the two of us, if not see us together like that. Why’d you think I sent him off to camp instead of forcing him to spend more time around you with me in addition, especially after what he just heard and saw us do?”

I feel like a snail; small, slow and stupid.

“But he told me, he told _us_ that I wasn’t his type, that he was over me. It was just supposed to be a crush !” I sound foolish and desperate even to my own ears.

At that Annabeth just shakes her head and smiles sadly.

“You don’t take on Tararus alone for just any crush, Percy.”

We stay silent until we reach Olympus.

We begin making our way towards the throne room, but we’re still on the walkway when we spot Asswipe- sorry, Ares - himself, lounging against his Harley.

“Hey punk. You look good begging and on your knees. I might even let you put your punk-ass mouth to good use on me, as a reward for the most entertaining live show on Olympus TV since the Waterland Amusement Park gig back when you were just a baby-punk. Get blondie over here and I might even give you a cookie when you pull those moves and take her for a ride.” He smirks at us.

I feel like throwing up at his implication.

“Need some tips Ares ? Feeling insecure, maybe ?” I shoot back, not even turning to look at Ares, feeling it in my bones just how much Tartarus deep shit this is going to get me into but I don’t care, can’t stop, even as I hear Annabeth’s breath cut off beside me. Her fingers dig into the scratches down my arm, painful even through the long sleeves.

And I don’t want to fight it for once, Ares’ aura that’s got me hopping mad. So instead of walking away like the sensible guy I am, I turn around completely, and smile as wide as my bruised mouth will allow, baring teeth more than smiling at this point and locking my gaze with the fire pits that are Ares’ eyes.

“That’s why you butch it up so much it up don’t you? You’re overcompensating for that tiny little- ” Too many things happen all at once then, my air cutting off, fury in me flaring up so strongly that my vision goes white. And then I’m on the ground, watching as Athena’s right hook breaks Ares’ nose, if the sharp crack that snaps out over the walkway is any indication, and oh yeah, my neck is now bruised with Ares’ finger marks. It could have been worse. At least he knocked Annabeth aside instead of trying to murder her as well.

I’m trying to figure out when did Athena land in the scene (not that I’m complaining, I’m cool with hickeys but really god-given gifts of strangulation marks are overkill, no pun intended) while I’m gasping for breath and blinking the haze out of my eyes. Annabeth’s trying to help me off my knees and onto my feet, while I’m vaguely aware of the exchange going on between the two deities.

“-ASTARD DOES NOT GET AWAY WITH INSULTING ME LIKE THAT!!! ” Ares roars, all fire and brimstone (the fact that it sounds like he needs a bottle or ten of Nyquil with his nasally voice kills the effect more than a bit) and the arctic venom in her voice is so sharp in contrast, that it actually makes Ares stop advancing towards us.

“And _you_ do not get away with insulting my daughter that way Ares. Remember, the last time you crossed me, your side were slaughtered by what came out from a horses’ ass.”

Are is brought up short, so short that all he can say is,“Wooden. It was a wooden, giant horse.”

Athena raises her eyebrow so high it does actually disappear into her hairline.

“Well, only a giant helping of what comes out of one’s back end compares to how full of the very same refuse you are yourself.” Athena turns back to Annabeth and me then, “You know I _told_ the Athenians that the rump really was just an unfortunate place for the trapdoor, but being able to use this line now really is worth all the fart jokes I had to hear back then.” While watching the two gods at each other’s throat, a part of me goes Hey look, its Trojan War: the squeak-quel.

(And seriously how is there even a free part of my brain right now, what with _every-damn-thing_ that’s happened in the last 24 hours ?)

She turns back to Ares then, all business and he’s just about stopped spluttering when she says, “I’ll hear of any further attempts on the lives of my daughter and Jackson. They _are_ the heroes of Olympus and more importantly, she is _my_ champion and the consequences harming her in anyway will be worse than breaking a Stygian oath. And because harming Jackson will cause her significant anguish, he’s off limits as well. A champion of mine now as well.”

“And since when exactly are they your champions ?” Ares sneers.

“Since right now” she replies and gestures for the two of us to kneel.

“I Athena, Goddess of Wisdom and Battle, Patron of Inventors and Craftsmen declare you Annabeth Chase, daughter of mine and Hero of Olympus my Champion, to uphold my honour and standing in all battles that you partake in henceforth. Accept this dagger as the weapon I your patron present you with.” And the dagger that materialises into her hands is Annabeth’s dagger, _Luke’s_ dagger- the one that was lost in Tartarus . Except this one is brand new and gleaming, sharp as wit and deadly as a vendetta. Annabeth’s fingers tremble as she takes the dagger, but her voice is steady, if quiet as she says simply, “I am honoured to have you as my patron, my lady and mother.”

Athena’s steely gaze freezes me in place, silently commanding me ‘Just go with it and everybody lives’.

So I kneel and bow my head as she repeats the speech without the daughter parts. Because that would be just awkward. However instead of presenting me with a weapon (I’m half expecting her to present me with a toothpick, and a larger part of me is scared she’s going to grab Annabeth’s new old dagger and stab me.) Instead she raps smartly on my head a couple of times and proclaims,

“His skulls’ thick enough that a new weapon won’t be required.” But the headache I’ve been nursing as part of the curses’ after-effects subsides immediately and she winks so quickly that it could have even been the sun in my eye. I carefully file this in my “To Process when Sober” folder as one of the million other happenings of the last 24 hours that I need to get straight.

Ares has been watching the whole process with his expression growing more and more foul with each word. Sour Punks would worship the twist of his mouth as emperor.

“Oh and Ares, the boy didn’t insult you at all.”

Ares turns a splotchy maroon so spectacular it’d give a chameleon an inferiority complex.

“Of course the rotten little twerp did ! He-” Ares swallows hard, working up to the next thing he wanted to holler. “He insulted my- my _manhood_! I’m Greek, for Our sakes’ ! Greek! We’re amongst the most well endow- ”

“Ah, but he didn’t. You tried to wring his neck to Hades before he could finish, and since his exact words were ‘you’re overcompensating for that tiny little-’ it’s open to interpretation as to what Jackson was going to finish with.” Athena shoots me a look and I nod for all my worth. I think I nearly give myself a concussion.

“I for example, would personally guess ‘brain.’ And no, it’s not an insult if its true. Then again, since I also believe that you weren’t born with one to start out with-” she shrugs and trails off. A snap of her fingers shuts Ares’ mouth with a click.

“I believe we are done here.” And then she places each hand on our foreheads and then we’re kneeling on the pavement outside the empire state building. Ow.

Annabeth tackles Athena in a hug before she’s even stood up fully. I can’t hear much of what Annabeth whispers in her ear, but I walk back about ten feet and try to give them their privacy. Whatever Athena hears makes her arms encircling her daughter tighten and when Annabeth gasps a bit at the pressure on her ribs, Athena shoots me a death glare over Annabeth’s shoulder. I fail miserably at not blushing. Athena places her hand gently on the crown of Annabeth’s head, like a blessing, and she glows golden momentarily. I wonder what the mortals see. Maybe a Tinkerbell and Cinderalla-going to-the-ball cosplaying mother and daughter duo. Annabeth mouths at me over Athena’s shoulder where she’s back to being hugged (or hugging) what looks like “Contraceptive spell.”

Oh. _Oh._ And now I am busy convincingly cosplaying a beetroot.

Annabeth’s shoulders are quivering though and Athena’s full attention is back to her daughter. I forget sometimes, that she misses having a mother’s shoulder to cry on even though she puts up an Oscar-worthy façade. Athena sways her gently and it seems both too long and too short a time after which they break apart, Annabeth with a watery smile and red nose. Athena motions for me to come back.

“You,” She jabs a pointy finger into my chest and ouch, yeah it has definitely landed on a scratch-“are the luckiest little punk”- oh gods she said _punk-_ “alive. For once Ares actually got his act together and nearly succeeded in cursing you with something that would have made the Twelve Labours look like a milk run. The club above which you were stuck ? Full of Eros’ slaves and helpers. If it hadn’t been for my daughter who bore the brunt of your –“ her nose wrinkles delicately as she picks the word “Affections, you’d have inflicted yourself on the poor crowd below, maybe massacred them in your lust mania even.” And the fact that I’m a hundred and ten percent in agreement with my hopeful future mother-in-law scares the living daylights out of me. Annabeth simply interlocks her fingers with mine though, and all of a sudden my head clears.

“We got off light then, with only the live-streaming thing.” I tell Athena,

“Truly you did, and though it seems my daughter were made for the screen, you are by no means as photogenic as Aphrodite would have you believe-” she sniffs disdainfully at the love goddesses’ name,“I think it was for the best that my girl was under the cap the first time. Afterall, the loss of virginity of the daughter of a virgin goddess is by no means a spectacle for all and sundry.” Athena’s gaze softens as she glances at Annabeth then, and gently brushes her cheek with the back of her hand. Annabeth sags a bit against me, leaning into her mother’s touch.

“I believe congratulations are in order.” And even though her face could make a professional poker player cry, her eyes twinkle and I know for a fact now that Annabeth’s pranking skills are not from her Dads’ side of the family.

Athena then dematerializes back to the top in a swish of her dress and it’s just the two of us. And a few hundred other New Yorkers. But I’m just gonna tell you about us.

“You know,” she muses, “I think my mom has finally stopped hating you. Maybe, she even likes you a bit.”

I nudge her.”Sort of a pattern with you wisdom types, isn’t it ? History repeats itself.”

I tell her sagely, reminding her of those early first few days she knew and disliked me.

“Plus, older women have always had a soft corner for me. I figure it runs in the family.”

She lets out a startled laugh and bats at my shoulder gently. The welts there sting a bit.

“You know, my mum can still hear you,” (I try not to cower too much at that) “and 22nd July is _not_ that much older than August 18 th Seaweed Brain.”

“Cradle snatcher...” I sing-song.

“Oh yeah ? Well then show some respect young man and c’mere when I tell you to.” she whispers and pulls me down, kissing me on the sidewalk. Go Go PDA !

She then links her hand in mine, we hail a cab (I whistle until I’m red in the face, and she just hikes up her pant cuff till the smooth expanse of her leg until her knee is bared and then classic style, gives the oncoming cabbies a good view. We get two stopping for us under twenty seconds. Did mention I’m marrying this girl ?) and then drive off into the sunset.

The End

(Well the cabbie drove. We make out in the back. Stupid Cupid plays on the radio.)

The-actual-End

 

* * *

[1] Pothos wanted to become one of the attendant “love deities” of Venus, but could not achieve that, so in the minds of people Pothos was synonymous to the unfulfilled desire.

**Imeros** is the personification of the intense erotic desire, the erotic craving.

**Anteros** , the brother of Eros, was the deity of the reciprocal love, but also the avenger of the unrequited love.

**Author's Note:**

> Hang out on Tumblr yo :) www.jonairadreaming.tumblr.com
> 
> Katadesmos magic for love spells and binding spells was an actual thing in ancient Greece. I know right?  
> In case you're interested in further reading,  
> http://cityfullofgods.weebly.com/curses-and-curse-tablets.html  
> http://www.greekmyths-greekmythology.com/greek-gods-of-love/  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Curse_tablet


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